Thursday, July 26, 2007

I slept over a friend's place the other night.(Dan and Chris: Note that I "slept over a friend's place", not "slept with a friend at his place'. Believe me. You're my best friends! lol)When I woke up, I examined his marvelously eclectic collection of books written in various languages and look what I found:

While we're on the subject of wrongness, allow me to show you another photo.

This was taken on Tuesday night at Volume, during Rabbi's birthday bash. Just about a day since I've recovered from 24 hours of partying like a rockstar from Saturday to Sunday night; and the eve of my first workweek day.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

The iFications of Clark is one of the blogs that I religiously follow. Yesterday, the author posted a live performance of Rufus Wainwright singing Complainte dela Butte --- one of my favoritest songs of all time. I checked again tonight and he has replaced it with the song's original music video. So here I am, doing my share in propagating Rufus and his song.

Recounting the past was quite paiful and quite draining as well. Finishing it, and clicking the publish button finally, was relieving. I've said my piece and it's over.

But maybe Alanis wasn't kidding when she said "...life has a funny way of sneaking up on you/ When you think everything's okay and everything's going right".

Just a few hours after I wrote that entry, I met a French couple at my friend Rabbi's birthday bash. Salut, monsieurs!

As I visited the iFications page tonight, I discoverd another video that the author just uploaded -- a gay short (3 mins., 3 secs.) in.. voila! French. It's phenomenal. But it's French -- just what I don't need right now. Here it is, anyway:

This picture on my phone:

reminded me --- while I was on the train, feeling famished --- of this fabulously posh Euro-fusion restaurant we dined in sometime last week where I had the bestest foie gras ever. Even better than anything I've had in Paris, Poitiers, Lyon, Normandy and Provence.

And finally, an ad that the Regional Tourism Committee of Paris Ile-de-France released last year to attract Londoners to Paris as part of their C'est So Paris! campaign.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

for la vie enrose that we promised and envisioned for each other has died before the summer of 2004 began.

=============================

We met in 2001 in Manila, the day after their company, JUNIOR BALLET CONTEMPORAIN du CONSERVATOIRE NATIONAL SUPERIEUR DE PARIS, opened the French Spring In Manila at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. They gave a Master Class at the dance school where I was a dance scholar. He was such a stunning dancer, and an amazing teacher. He moved like jello and he managed to get his thoughts across despite his very limited english. He barely smiled. But he wasn't intimidating either.

That night, we saw each other at the Republic of Malate. After about 3 hours of exchanging glances and a few rounds of Bordeaux, he came up to me, said hello, and told me, in broken english that his name was Guillaume. I told him mine and I asked whether he was having fun. He just smiled at me. He clearly didn't understand what I was saying. For the next two hours, we just sat next to each other, waiting for God to send down an interpreter. Then he left for a while. When he came back, he opened a little blue book, pocket-sized French-English dictionary and pointed at the word charmant. I looked up after reading the word and he was smiling and pointing at me. And he was uttering the words, "You. Charmant."

I blushed, and said "Merci." He was surprised. "Parle Français?" he asked me. Quickly, I said no.

Our first face-to-face interaction was rather weird in an intense way. Intense in a weird way. Somehow, we made it through. That awkward, silent opening scene led to a love story that spanned for a little less than 3 years. It was a very expensive long-distance relationship. But it was real And we were both committed to making it work. Eventually, we found a way to be together more often without spending too much money. He would fly to Manila evey summer and spend 3 months there as a guest teacher and choreographer for Steps Dance Studio and Ballet Philippines. I, on the other hand, flew to France in winter under a dance scholarship with Ballet Maina Brigeon in Poitiers. We would spend a week in Paris with his friends then take the train to Poitiers to take classes and rehearse for the recital.

We took every opportunity we could to explore all possibilities and build a network outside of our own comfort zones --- an important step we took in preparation for that day when we were to decide whether he'd move to Manila or I would to France.

In 2003, we started our own company in Manila, Le Cabaret Kuya. The staging of our first concert was a production nightmare. We barely had three major sponsors; and the woman who committed to financing the show cut down the budget to half of what she promised during Production week. What's worse, our artistic (and cultural) differences started to get in the way of work and it was becoming unhealthy for us. I ws young and stubborn; he was french and piscean. We brought our rehearsal room drama into the bedroom. I began doubting his trust on me as his creative collaborator; he began doubting my love for him.Although I knew that his efforts to beat all odds in order to make the show and the company work, was for the good of "us", I hated it that the same show and company was taking its toll in our relationship. We talked less of our future together, and more of the future of the company; less of where we would settle, more of which tour offers to take. I found it disconcerting.

In toto, we did 15 performaces of Cabaret! in two venues: Intramuros and College of St. Benilde. All of which were sould-out and we got nothing from critics but warm accolades. We got offers for a tour in the Visayas and in France. And Alliance Française de Manille asked us to open that year's French Spring Festival in Manila. Despite the monetary difficulty we faced that almost made us give up, we pulled it off. We gave a show that even the French Ambassador in Manila wanted to show off in Paris.

That same summer, he choreographed his last piece for Steps Dance Studio; a piece he named Depression Au Dessus Du Jardin (Depression Over the Garden). He told me (and the school director) that the piece described how devastated he felt everytime we fought. The piece ends with me destroying the cleanly-laden bed of roses on the floor while reciting a French poem that talks about broken hearts --- so very different from the French song La Vie En Rose that he had me sing as a prologue to Cabaret!, which, by the way, the French audience loved and applauded well to.

That marked Guillaume's last summer in Manila. A few months after that, we both realized we were tired of the long distance and we just both gave up. We started sleeping around and lying to each other. And then we both decided it wasn't worth fighting for it anymore. It was a mutual decision. But he still thinks I am the bad guy in the equation.

Out of curiosity, I looked him up on the internet today. He is now a singer and goes by the name, Guillaume Morgan. I read his profile and translated what I could to English. He didn't fail to mention his stint in Manila. But there was no hint that he once fell in love there.

I also saw him on myspace. He is friends with the same friends I have. But, considering the many emails I sent him that he ignored, I guess he still doesn't want to reconnect, and at least be fellow artists, if not friends.

On his page, his recording of L'Equilibriste(The Tightrope Walker) plays. And it says:

Monday, July 23, 2007

"Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable."

-Francis Bacon

(1909-1992)

It's been 4 hours since I awoke from my 17 hours of Mogadon-induced slumber; 3 hours and a half since my first attempt to write something for my blog.

It's not the absence of something to write about that I am experiencing right now. Not at all. The present state of my mind is comparable to rush hour Welcome Rotonda --- infested with copious faces and activities coming from all four directions. The traffic is overwhelmingly heavy and it is brimming with too many different sounds, colors and movement. Oh and yes, pollution too!

I could write about that "really nice German" that I was chatting with while I was answering the meme I posted days back; or the fun that we had on the beach yesterday with his friends; or the reeking sunburn that I got (my first EVER!) from basking in the sun for 5 hours sans sunscreen; or how I partied like a 16-year old from Saturday night all the way through Sunday night; or the gorgeous gay Asian couple I met at the beach; or the anxiety brought about by the upcoming contract renewal meeting; or the winsome french ad I came across online today; or how the troikasters' latest podcast on long distance and open relationships made me cringe.

There's a plethora of subjects to write about. But I can't do it. I seem to have ceased to function today.

I have a weekend hangover.

====================

And the irony of it all is that, I got to write something after all. Ganda!

Friday, July 13, 2007

Tonight, while walking down the overpass that connects the bus stop to the village where I live, a question just popped in my mind from nowhere: "Why have I never been tagged?" Half an hour later, I logged on to my Blogger account and saw a message from my lesbian cyberkada (ang cheap nung cyberkada noh?), joyjoy asking me whether I was busy. I found it rather odd that she asked me........

1. That's Entertainment I know it's cheap. But that's what made me decide I was going to be a performer when I grew up2. Super House --kami ng kapatid ko. then we'd talk about how impossible that cartoon is!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

I turned away from him and, immediately, I felt his strong hand grab me by the arm. "Wait," he exclaimed. My mouth dry, butterflies fluttering relentlessly in my stomach, my heart beating fast like I just finished Franz's Variation in Copellia, I turned to him.

"Can I have some of your toothpaste?" he asked me.

I felt silly. What the hell was I thinking? Without uttering a word, I handed the tube to him. He smiled and said, "Great. Thanks!" I smiled back and removed his hand that was still holding my arm. I excused myself and went in the shower.

I haven't even begun to hang my towel on the hook by the wall when I realized that my bath gel wasn't with me when I went in the shower. I paused for a few seconds to recall the route that I took from the locker to the shower. I must've left it by the sink. I took my towel and re-wrapped it on my waist. I opened the door of the cubicle where I was and, looking down on my feet to make sure I don't hit the hump that marks the parameters of the shower, I saw another pair facing mine. I looked up and, lo and behold! It was the boy.

"I thought so." Our eyes locked for a moment. Damn, Rye! Stop it! Go back inside now. He could have crabs! "Well.... thank you," I continued and started to close the door.

"Hey, here's your toothpaste," he said.

"You done?"

"Yeah. I've already gotten some." He raised his toothbrush to show me. Right as I looked at the oral gadget he was holding, he turned it on and it produced a sound that sounded like a sex toy. I felt like I was being hypnotized. His toothbrush was vibrating fast that the toothpaste he had put on it dripped. It landed just a few inches above his adonis belt, which was partly exposed the whole time we were conversing in the locker room.

I let out an "Oops!"

He responded with a "Shit!" He then quickly removed the towel that was covering his pelvic region to wipe the toothpaste off his skin. The action was too swift that I didn't get to divert my focus to another part of his body, or another part of mine, or another part of the room. My eyes were glued.

Everything happened seemingly faster than a blink but everything registered to me in slow motion. Super slow. Agonizingly slow, even. The way the toothpaste dripped; the way he said oh shit; the way his fingers clawed the towel; the way the fabric unfastened; the way it flung and gathered to his right; the way, like an artist unveiling his piece de resistance, he exposed the little red snake tattooed just above his pubic hair --- almost in the same area of my body where my black little 6-year old gecko resides; the way he wiped off the toothpaste, unmeaningly flexing his arm; the way he gave me an evil smile when he saw that I was stunned; and the way

Monday, July 09, 2007

Blogging is such a dynamic medium and living in this Web 2.0 world we’ve come to appreciate that the internet doesn’t have to be just one big book. There are so many ways to communicate and express yourself and one of themethodologies that has continually gained popularity in light of the iPod is of course podcasting!

So allow me the pleasure of featuring our very first podcasting duo - The Dan and Rye Show!

The Dan and Rye Show is a pretty robust podcast site given they take the time to maintain a full website along with a Yahoo! Group to provide followers of the podcast a venue for meeting fellow fans and to exchange ideas.

One can expect a new podcast to become available once-a-week at the very most but more likely one every three days based on recent trending, which is fine by me.You can either download the podcasts from the site or via iTunes or you can listen to the updates from the site itself. The variety of options is great and helps many different users get access to the “entries”.

As for the content in itself, they're loads of fun. This is a mixed language podcast so non-Filipino-speaking followers might have some difficulty understanding this particular pair but for the rest of us we’re more than free to enjoy the fun.

Topics range from entertainment to whatever it is that comes to mind for Dan and Rye. Some updates may seem to have what heavy topics for discussion while others are downright campy, as they should be. If you want to add a refreshing Filipino gay podcast to your playlist, this is definitely a must-have for your subscriptions.

So there.. Perhaps tomorrow, when there are no more reviews on my blog or on TD&RS, and when my broadband at home is back to normal, I can already post the third (and probably the last) part of "About A Boy At The Gym".

Sunday, July 08, 2007

I was gonna write part 3 of the "About A Boy At The Gym" series today. When I logged on though, I realized that a message from the beratemyblog ladies on my cbox was waiting for me, saying that my review was out already.

Here it goes:

Review: Can't You Read?Graphics -- Hectic as the blogger's world of stage lights and bustling Hong Kong. The layout shows spreads photos without looking albumish and the the header shows style. The ballerina videos are a treat.

Content -- The high and low points of a dancer's work life,relationships, and assorted gay community happenings. Rye posts a moving birthday tribute to his mom, which will shame you brats out there who take everything for granted.

A bloglink slams the Pope for his stand against same-sexmarrriage, but Rye's comment shows no resentment. The whole site comes out like the 'about me' part that says, 'I am just a common man with common thoughts', cheerful and unperturbed.

You close the pages with some compassion for this self-effacing person who works and loves as hard as he can with no holding back. You will have a full life to look back on, Rye.

Recommend -- Keep telling it like it is, and always be as upbeat as you are. Also, you could find more carefree-looking page colors to go with your content.

Rating -- 8.5

I have always wished that someday, somebody would link the adjective imperturbable to my name. Well, they didn't. But unperturbed is just as good.

Thank you, ladies! Thank you, thank you, thank you for being very sweet and for making my first-ever blog review not even remotely close to traumatic.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

With the aid of the ever-reliable copy-and-paste function of the computer, I am posting one of the 7 Untold Pinoy Stories a friend sent me via e-mail. (Don't sue me. I just received them. I didn't make them up.) A lot of you might already have read this, as it has been circulating quite profusely on the net. For those of you who haven't, read on and let me know who you think these personalities are.

They were the best of friends. They were always seen together around the University of the Philippines (UP) campus in Diliman: one was undoubtedly a very good-looking guy and the other was unquestionably a plain-looking guy. Opposites really attract. Hey, but they're both brilliant students. Well, birds of the same feather also flock together. Indeed, they were very close to each other. Unusually close.

They were the perfect tandem. Like suman and ripe mango. Or nuts and bolts. Peg and a hole.

They were both proteges of then UP Student Council chairman Chito Gascon. Soon, the good-looking guy took the helm as UP Student Council chairman. But the best friends seem to follow each other's path. The plain-looking guy also ran for the same position with the all-out support of his good-looking friend. He won, of course.

The good-looking guy was the crush ng bayan of the iskolars ng bayan.

During lunchtime, students of all persuasions flocked to the College of Arts and Sciences (CAS) cafeteria to catch a glimpse of the good- looking guy. Even singer-actress Regine Velasquez later admitted on national television that she had a big crush on the good-looking guy.

But loveless Regine's daring admission did not earn her even just a movie date invitation from the good-looking guy; instead, the good- looking guy merely flashed a demure smile in response to desperate Regine's thinly-veiled date invitation.

But after finishing college, the best friends went their separate ways. (Or so it seemed). The plain-looking guy pursued his law studies and later taught law courses. The good-looking guy delivered the evening news on TV, hosted a TV quiz show and wrote analytical articles on pop culture. His good looks, intelligence and impeccable manner endeared him to televiewers.

Despite their divergent career choices, the good-looking guy and the plain-looking guy really seemed to follow each other's path. But this time, their path led to a nice little apartment near the Ateneo de Manila campus. And they shared that nice little apartment. Just the two of them.

Yes, the plain-looking guy and the good-looking guy lived together.

Those gifted with wild imagination got titillated at the mere thought of these two young men sharing a lovely apartment. The moralists out there shook their heads at the mere thought of the goings-on beyond that innocent-looking apartment door amid rows of middle-class houses in Loyola Heights in Quezon City.

But the pair would not budge from their nest. Nor would they yield to any pressure. Not even from the plain-looking guy's bible-reading siblings who berated him for living with another guy. The plain- looking guy's own family started to cast doubt about his masculinity.

All telltale signs which have accumulated all those years could no longer be ignored. People started talking openly about the two guys.

Speculations about the true nature of the pair's friendship became a daily fodder for gossip mongers. The academic freedom which alma mater UP's oblation symbolizes seemed to have gone beyond the duo's lust for knowledge.

In order to prove to his family that he was not what they thought he was, the plain-looking guy suddenly announced that he was getting married. His family jumped with joy.

But the plain-looking guy's marriage did not dispel wild speculations about his sexuality; instead, it only succeeded in erasing any remaining doubt about his alleged agenda of using his wife to finally succeed in his failed initial crack at pursuing his lifelong dream.

And it was well worth his efforts. Because this former loser's desperate act finally triumphed. Thanks to his wife.

However, the plain-looking guy's deep friendship with his good-looking friend took a backseat as a result of the former's new civil status. The plain-looking guy did not want to hurt his new wife's flourishing career nor spoil his newfound success. That's why he played his role as a good family man to the hilt. However, he had not forgotten his good-looking best friend at all. As a token of their undying friendship, the good-looking guy stood as one of the godfathers of the plain-looking guy's first baby, together with Edu Manzano, Cesar Montano, Cherie Gil, Ciara Sotto, Angeli Valenciano, Fanny Serrano and a host of other household names. Of course, the plain-looking guy's wife was clueless about her husband's past.

But the plain-looking guy's wife had her share of dark past. She is a single mother who parted ways with her good-looking "first husband" after she discovered that her good-looking "first husband" was already married to another woman when she hastily married him after she got pregnant at a young age. This meant that her marriage to her good-looking "first husband" was not legally binding after all. Now, the plain-looking guy was her knight-in-shining- armor who rescued her from the stigma of being an unmarried mother.

Ironically, while her non-binding marriage with her good-looking "first husband" was solemnized by several high-rankingpriests at the cavernous Manila Cathedral amid countless clicking cameras and thousands of shrieking admirers several years ago, her supposedly legitimate marriage with the plain-looking guy was officiated not by a Catholic priest but by a pastor in a cramped living room, with only few relatives and friends as witnesses.

Later, the good-looking guy reportedly got married also without fanfare. They said that his bride was a creative consultant for ABS- CBN Interactive. However, some women still believe and hope that he is still unmarried to this day.

The good-looking guy soon rose to become ABS-CBN News Channel's (ANC) Director for Current Affairs. He has been circling the globe as host of ANC's weekly travel show.

Below in italics is an Indonesian phrase I learned just tonight, after a night of cocktails at a friend's house to celebrate 4th of July. I challenge my readers to translate it in English. The first to translate it correctly (write in as a comment on this entry) will be featured on "Can't You Read?" and will be greeted and publicized on "The Dan and Rye Show Ep.25 (Season 1 ender)".

Lengkap Dengan Bumbu

Good luck, linguists! :-)

==============================

4th of July reminded me of an episode that happened to a close friend of mine in an elevator here in HK few months back. She was given a lesson in ordinal numbers which she eagerly shared with us.

Scene: Aboard an elevator in a residential building. My friend was holding a huge box with both her hands.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

I woke up this morning and found a half-full pack of Marlboro Lights on my computer desk that Dan left last night, which he didn’t bother to take back from me. (Dan’s half pack of Lights) + (my half pack of Reds) = a day’s worth of cigs…gratis!On the way to work, this cheerfully lovely young man at the train station flashed his armpit and smiled at me. I took out my cam from my bag and took his pic. I blushed secretly.

Then, just as I was about to alight the train, the clouds cleared and revealed the excruciatingly scorching summer sun. I saw Drew --- a close straight friend, a young daddy at 22, with a chest that girls and boys alike (you know what I mean) salivate for and arms that define the word “tsalap” --- holding his umbrella. He offered (okay, he didn’t offer. I asked him and he gamely agreed) to be my knight in shining armor.

I had for lunch a rechauffe from last night’s dinner that Dan made: chop suey made to perfection! Orgasmically delicious and definitely blog-worthy. (I really love it, Dan! Congratulations! So proud of you. Now, let’s strive for consistency, ok? We want exactly the same taste and texture the next time you make it again.)I got an unexpected call from a very dear friend, Keith Mitchell from NYC. Keith used to work with us here in HK until his contract expired in Feb of this year. He was the wall I leaned on when my boyfriend of 2+ years and I broke up. We became very close and people thought we were either a couple or fb’s. We told everyone we were just friends, and that we’ve never slept together, but no one believed us. NO ONE. Not even our closest friends. We both have been trying to reach each other since last week, but we always missed each other’s calls. Today was no exception. He called while I was in warm-up class, so all I got was, AGAIN, a voicemail. But that’s ok. The point is, he tried.

(I took a break after that last sentence I wrote and tried to call him again. He picked up and we got to talk for a good 9 minutes, 38 seconds. Hallelujah!)

A little bit of motivating myself got me to work out. Afterwhich, I had my day’s serving of protein shake --- FREE from Anna Fegi --- and smoked salmon sandwich that I never thought Disney had. Thanks to Dan and Chris’s boredom, they went to Disneyland Hotel during their standby time and discovered that.

Just a few minutes before I started composing this entry, I surfed the net to look up interesting images that would be appropriate for my subject. To my surprise, I found four jpeg files of me that made me smile. The first was from the playbill of the last play I did for my college theater guild, Artistang Artlets, entitled Deuterium, circa 2000. Back in the day when I could literally munch on anything edible I set my eyes on and not worry about gaining a pound.The second was from an advertisement of The Centre for Impact, a HK-based organization that “aims at building the capacity of local gay men in the areas of corporate and personal development” (or so they say).The third and fourth were taken at the HK Floatilla, a big gay party in the middle of the sea that happened sometime in May. I didn’t know that my friend, Rabbi, posted our pics until Joel McVie posted a comment on my cbox about them. I never really remembered to check out his blog for those pics until tonight. (photos grabbed without permission from Rabbi)

And last but not the least, the wonderful comments we’ve received from our listeners on our most recent episode of The Dan & Rye Show. I’m speechless. Just speechless.

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Tonight, Christina Aguilera is having her major concert here in HK. Few hours back, a friend of mine asked me whether I was going. I said no. She acted surprised; and in a very dramatic fashion, said, “Whaaaaaaaaaat?!?! Why not?” Until I got home from work, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking why I should go. Just now, I realized the answer.

I’ve already had my share of pleasures for today. And I’m happy that didn’t need to spend HK$1,300.00 to find that. I guess it’s true what they say. It’s the little things… and the joy they bring.

Monday, July 02, 2007

Ok.. So I know most of my very few readers won't be interested to read this entry. But it's that time of the year when all I want to do is pay homage to the most important woman in my and my brother's lives --- a woman who held a respectable position in the civil service industry but chose to be a hands-on mother instead; a woman who took care of our loving father until his very last breath;a woman who, despite her college diploma and invaluable professional experience, sold fish in the market to sustain our family in our most trying moments; a selfless woman who, gave everything she had and did everything to source out whatever she didn't have that we needed. Or wanted.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

The world around me was spinning fast while the people that surrounded me moved in slow motion. My senses were sharp but my body was numb. Flashes of hypnotic light and the pulsating music drowned me. I felt helpless. My body was limp but my mind was active.

Leaning on the bar, sweating, my heart beating fast, half-naked, feeling the movement of everything inanimate and of every living flesh around me, I felt him hold my nape. His hands were cold and wet.

"Are you ok?" he asked me.

"i've had too much, I think."

"Where are your friends?" he probed further.

"Dancing."

"Do they know you're here?"

At this point, I looked up to see who I was talking too. He was sweaty too, and topless, like every single man in the club. He was chewing gum. His left hand was on the bar, holding his bottled water. His right was massaging my nape gently. I asked him, "Where are you from?"

"Singapore."

"Visiting or living here?"

"Visiting. I fly tomorrow afternoon back to Singapore." Then he turned to the bartender and asked for another bottled water. I looked down again. I have lost all my energies already and I didn't have any ounce left to sustain our conversation.

He tilted up my head and I felt a wet, cold something touch my forehead. My eyes closed, I asked him, "What is that?" He didn't answer. He rested my head on his hard, sweaty shoulder, held down my chin and said, "Here, have some water." I opened my eyes to make sure it was still him I was with.

He held the bottle while I drank from it. My eyes were fixed on his smooth face. I touched his chest. He smiled at me, pinched my cheek and gently put my hand back on the bar. He wrapped his right arm around me, popped a chewing gum in my mouth, and asked, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I replied. "What's your name?"

"DJ, he said. "What's yours?"

"Rye."

I faced him and attempted to kiss. He held my face with both his hands and flashed the most angelic smile I've ever seen. Then in his very calming voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Rye. I'm straight. I am just being nice."